Existence: The Beyond Lost Conclusion
by therentyoupay
Summary: IN PROGRESS. Continuation of Beyond Lost.  Created as a separate story to maintain the impact of the original one-shot. "It's as real as we make it to be."
1. asleep

**Title: **Existence | The Beyond Lost Conclusion  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG-13  
><strong>Summary:<strong> IN PROGRESS. Continuation of Beyond Lost. "It's as real as we make it to be."  
><strong>Author's Notes: <strong>_4/3/2011._

It's happening!

After four years and four months (and two days, but who's counting?), I've caved and decided to continue _Beyond Lost_. If you haven't read that yet, I suggest you go do so now, or this will not make any sense, whatsoever. Even if you _have_ read it, I suggest you refresh your memory before continuing on!

This continuation will not be a single one-shot. I have the remainder of the story planned and prepared, and I will be casting off the remaining segments as quickly as I can get them out.

Thank you so much for all those who reviewed and supported _Beyond Lost_. I never realized how strongly you all would feel about it, and I'm so excited to finally answer everyone's questions. If you leave a review and would like a response, please make sure to do so signed-in, so I can reply! :)

Without further ado, the first segment of the continuing _Beyond Lost_ saga...

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

There was nothing.

Nothing but ubiquitous white and silence. Nothing but this feeling of tightness in his chest, this difficulty to breathe. Zuko wasn't sure if he was awake or dreaming or alive or dead or a combination of them all, but he knew that something heavy was resting on his chest and the pressure was unbearable.

The blank abyss became a little clearer, and the haze of his confounding surroundings began to diminish. Zuko realized after a few eternal moments that the whiteness looked stunningly familiar, like the ceiling of a tent.

And suddenly, sounds greeted his ears. There was too much noise for Zuko to discern while still under this heaviness, but it was clear to Zuko that there were people around him shouting with quick, panicky voices. The haze continued to clear and he could make out flashes of colors dancing about, and could only assume that people were rushing past, though he could not decide who. And abruptly, the excruciating tightness in his chest receded.

It was replaced with a strange feeling of emptiness.

"He's waking up!"

_That voice_… Zuko's mind whispered. _I know that voice… Toph?_

"Sokka, get over here! He's snapping out of it!"

"Are you positive, Toph?"

"What kind of a stupid question is that?" Toph exclaimed, as Zuko's world reorganized itself. "I can feel his heartbeat changing, he's really coming to!"

"His eyes!" Sokka gasped. "They're focusing!"

"You moron, I can't _see _his eyes!"

And for Zuko, the visions of color slowly shuddered into the shapes of Sokka and his Toph, who were looking at him with wide eyes of anticipation. He took a few moments to take in the worry lines etched deeply into their faces, and to realize that he must be in a bed and must have been very ill or badly injured. Then, after testing the muscles in his fingers and toes and finding them fitting of his approval, he slowly turned his head to the side to get a better look around.

In the bed immediately to his right, he found a small figure tightly wound in bandages and covered by a mountain of blankets. The face was obscured by a mask of long, flowing brown hair, but before he could inspect any further, someone jarred his thoughts with speech.

"Zuko?" It was Aang. "Blink twice if you can hear me." Zuko kept his gaze focused on the bed beside him, but he blinked twice, meriting sighs of relief from his onlookers, only barely heard over the panic of the room. "Can you speak?" Zuko cleared his throat easily, then licked his dry lips. The only obstacle was how large and out of place his tongue felt in his mouth.

"I'm fine," Zuko said, gradually realizing the reality of his situation. How long had he been lying there? Were they still in battle? Had the troops followed through with their plans successfully? What had happened to him?

"Zuko?" Aang asked.

"What?" Zuko looked back to Aang.

"I asked how you are feeling."

Zuko looked back to the figure next to him. "Can't be worse than what he must be going through…" Zuko looked back to the others just in time to see them all wince. "I think I'll survive." For a moment, they were all silent, though Sokka kept sending subtle glances at Aang. Zuko, perplexed, continued speaking. "What happened to me? How long have I been asleep?"

"Only a few hours," Sokka said, looking relieved to be able to break the silence. "You were hit at the peak of battle—some of the freedom fighters managed to bring you back to safety before any harm was done and Toph has been watching over—er, sorry, _keeping track _of you since then. I don't know how they managed to hit you right at that pressure point directly on your neck… We're going to have to be far more careful. They are skilled."

"The battle is over?" Zuko asked, feeling hollow. He had failed. Again. Zuko couldn't imagine how he had been injured right at the time his troops would have needed his advice the most. He just hoped they followed his plans. "Were we successful?"

"Yes..." Aang said, turning and walking around to the other side of the bed next to him, so he could see the figure lying there and still face Zuko. "The palace has been infiltrated, just like we wanted."

"Everything is prepared?"

"Everything."

Zuko looked at Aang, who was staring at the figure lying still. "And… casualties?"

Toph shook her head slightly. "Most escaped with mere cuts and scratches, and only a few more than that sustained any serious injuries."

"Most?" Zuko asked, feeling his stomach churn in anticipation of knowing the fate of the rest. Their gazes dropped.

"Katara was hit near the very end of battle," Toph said softly, turning toward the bed where Aang was settled.

Zuko looked to the mess of blankets next to him, and Aang staring longingly into the face Zuko couldn't see. She had to have been in serious condition. His brow creased as he tried to take a closer look.

"That's…Katara?"

Sokka took a moment to clear the lump in his throat, then continued. "We'll need to have a doctor check your head to make sure you're all right, but you might have to wait a while. Things got pretty gruesome once you went down, and I'm not sure one will be available for quite a while."

Zuko turned to Sokka, and nodded curtly, ignoring the heaviness of his head.

"We'll have to get moving with a new battle plan," said Toph. "Their tactics are getting trickier, and we're not picking them up as fast as we need to."

Zuko felt something hard and cold form in the pit of his stomach. It was the recurring realization that they weren't going to win.

* * *

><p>"That balm should help," Aang muttered quietly. "Katara made a special supply just before…"<p>

Zuko nodded in thanks, and set the medicine bowl near the foot of the bed. He was still kneeling on the floor, stiffly resting on his upturned heels. Years of intensive training in both proper etiquette and self-discipline forced him to remain as still and as vertical as a cliff. "I appreciate you getting me out of the ward as soon as possible, but I assure you, I am perfectly capable of meeting with the others," said Zuko, finding his tone more clipped than he'd intended, but Aang did not seem to have noticed. In fact, Aang seemed to have not noticed any of Zuko's protests about immediately conferring with the other advisors since he first mentioned it upon leaving the hectic infirmary, and Zuko was growing more tense with each of his arguments. "Who knows how many are still without a proper hospital bed, but that is precisely why we should be planning our next attack." Aang did not move from his slouch against the pole near the door of his tent. Battling his impatience, Zuko continued on. "If we do not find a way to escape whatever new tricks they have planned for us, there will no longer be a shortage of sickbeds, Avatar, but a shortage of properly-dug graves."

Zuko's voice had grown coarse with his incendiary finish, as his patience continued wearing thin. Still, Aang remained seemingly unaffected. Zuko opened his mouth to unleash one final blow of opinions, when Aang interrupted.

"It will be over tomorrow."

Zuko paused. "Avatar?"

"The war," he said, still looking into space, somewhere toward a spot just over Zuko's shoulder. That feeling of being passed through, of being strangely invisible seemed eerily familiar to Zuko. "It ends tomorrow."

"What makes you believe that?" Zuko didn't hide the skepticism in his voice, but attempted to remain respectful. His focus on being civil coincidentally helped him to ignore the slight tremor of fear swimming in his stomach.

_Aang and the world do not have the strength to win this war._

"I don't know," Aang said quietly. "I just feel it."

Zuko frowned. "Then all the more reason why we should be conferring with the others. There's no telling what—"

"What's going to happen when you are Fire Lord?" Aang asked suddenly, turning to look at Zuko for the first time. Zuko, taken aback, stared inquisitively into Aang's gaze.

"What?"

"We have always focused so much on the war," Aang began. "It occurred to me that I always just assumed that we could discuss the aftermath when the time came. But it's so close, and I haven't even asked you for your opinions." Zuko sighed. After taking a few moments to collect his thoughts, Zuko did his best to answer.

"I _would_ have been Fire Lord. Or my Uncle Iroh, but—"

"What do you mean by _would _have?" Aang's brow creased in confusion. His usual habit of not interrupting was obviously not going to happen in this conversation.

"In light of recent events, it will probably go to whomever is next in line for the thrown. Which, naturally, may make reconstruction tricky if they have the same mindset as Ozai or—"

"What do you mean, 'in light of recent events'? You're… why wouldn't you take the throne?"

Zuko said nothing for a moment, but turned to look out his tented window at the darkness. "Well, for one, Avatar," Zuko said, and for once Aang didn't have the urge to correct him with a less formal name. "I doubt I'm going to live long enough for anyone to have put a crown on my head—"

"What—?"

"And if I do, can you imagine that kind of reception I would have?" Zuko chuckled a little, the smile on his lips a sad one. "The Water Tribes despise me, with good reason, most especially your waterbender friend out there. The Earth Kingdom fears me, and thus hates me, also very understandably. I've betrayed my own nation more than anyone else in _history_; my people only know me as the treasonous, failure of a son of one of their greatest leaders, the leader who has kept them in blissful, ignorant prosperity for years… a leader that I'm going to help you usurp. To them, I'm just the little, insignificant Prince brat who couldn't measure up to my sister, who couldn't be good enough for my father, who couldn't find my banished mother, and who has let every single individual in all of cosmos down… at least once, if not more." He turned to Aang, who was silent. "You sure you're still wondering why I'm not going to be Fire Lord?" Aang frowned.

"But… I still don't understand why you think you're not going to live for much longer." He tilted his head to the side, looking at the sheets on the bed.

"Well," Zuko said, another smile on his lips. "I already sort of told you. I can't imagine there being a single person in the world who doesn't want me harmed in some way." He chuckled again. "My father wants me tortured and burned to death. Azula wants me tortured and then wants to keep me as a constant plaything. The rest of the Fire Nation no doubt wants me imprisoned. The Earth Kingdom would most probably love me as a slave… I'm going to have to watch my back just as much as after the battle as during it… if not more." He leaned back against the bed frame. "In fact, maybe I should just let myself die at the end of the war." A small laugh. "There aren't many who really want me alive."

"But… _I _do."

Zuko laughed. "Thank you, but you only needed me to teach you how to firebend and to help you lead your army. Your friends, save Toph, would get along just fine without me, I know." Aang immediately moved to protest, but Zuko help up a palm to stop him. He looked out at the window again. "It's okay. I've given up on trying to ask for their forgiveness. I've obviously done too much bad in this life to redeem anything else."

Aang sat quietly for another moment. "I should probably go check on Katara," Aang said softly. "I'll send Toph in with the medicine from the doctors. It's late, and we still need to discuss our new strategies."

"I agree," Zuko said quietly. "And I wish your waterbender friend well. I know that she… Katara, and I have never really to gotten along, but…"

Aang nodded in understanding and passed out of the room.

* * *

><p>Zuko scoffed.<p>

"Fate is just some story we were told as children to make us feel better about things that we couldn't control. You could cop out of a significant parenting conversation just by throwing out the phrase, 'everything happens for a reason,' a few times and be done with the difficulty of explaining the injustices of the world."

"That's pretty harsh," Toph said, sounding almost hurt.

"So are most things, anymore," Zuko said flipping through his collection of maps. Palace grounds, nearby mountains, secret chambers, hidden doorways… He sorted them in order of importance. At least, he hoped he was. Who really knew what he was going to need?

"I know my share of kid stories," Toph said, with a defiant edge. "And I know enough of them to realize that most of them are made of useless crap. But I believe in Fate." She sounded angry. Zuko withheld a sigh, but couldn't stop from rolling his eyes, and Toph, knowing him well enough to visualize his response without sight, gave him a swift kick in the shoulder from her spot on his bed. As Zuko exclaimed in surprise, she continued. "I think Fate is what brought me to Aang and the others. It's what allowed you to join him, too. And I think it's what's going to make things right again." Zuko finished shuffling his papers. "And it's what's going to bring Katara back."

Zuko paused, hand in mid-reach for the "Necessary" pile. He glanced back at Toph, who was sitting on his sleeping mat and quietly shuffling her feet. Dropping his hand to his lap, he suddenly felt guilty.

"Toph," Zuko said quietly, sitting on the floor at the end of his bed. "What happened to her?"

Toph stayed still for a moment. She sighed, and allowed her shoulders to drop in defeat, causing her to sink deeper into the edge of his bed beside him; he could feel the dip from her small weight in the light mattress. She spoke more softly than Zuko had ever heard the normally abrasive creature speak before. "We were so close to the palace. We were afraid that the distraction would fail and they would notice our implants, so we went way too close… they had the perfect shot at Aang." Zuko watched the small girl quickly shake her head. He pretended he didn't really know what she was doing when she wiped a tear away and tried to pass it off as itching her temple. "None of us really knew what it was happening until it had already happened. There was a band of archers specifically formed to attack Aang, and once they fired, there was no way Aang could have gotten out of their path. So Katara found a way to jump in front of him."

Zuko took a moment to let the information sink in. "Arrows… how many were there?"

"There were only three," Toph said, monotone. "And because of what Katara did, the arrows missed all of her vital organs."

"But when I saw her in the infirmary, she seemed in far worse condition than what your story suggests." Toph's shoulders drooped all the more hopelessly.

"Their goal wasn't necessarily to kill immediately," Toph's voice filled with angry despair. "The arrows were loaded with poison. It slowly enters the bloodstream and taints the entire body in a matter of days… they had been hoping to have the world watch their Avatar slowly be eaten away at the very peak of the war. It would have killed all hope." Toph shook her head again, though Zuko couldn't tell if it was to dispel her rare tears. "They are surely just as satisfied with this new situation, though, as Aang…" Toph turned her head slightly in Zuko's direction. "Well, you've seen what he looks like, hovering over her bed all the time. He only leaves the ward if he absolutely has to, and even then, not for very long."

"And what of the doctors? Have they found a solution?" Toph shook her head.

"They haven't found out what the poison is actually composed of, so they haven't found a cure. And we would have absolutely no idea where to start looking if we want to retrieve it from the Fire Nation, itself. I was sure that Aang would have lost it out there and gone crazy, but to be honest, he really hasn't said that much." Toph frowned. "But their plan backfired. Katara is a martyr, and a sense of mob vengeance like this isn't something you mess with… Instead of destroying hope, they renewed it."

_Hope_, Zuko thought with disdain. The word disgusted him; it only served to breed ignorance.

"And what of her bandages?" Zuko asked, fighting to keep his voice from showing the edge he felt.

"She was hit twice in the chest and once in the shoulder, all away from her heart. But the bandages are to protect her skin from how filthy the air is. We noticed that the less skin exposure she had, the better she seemed to be doing. We think that the poison has something to do with her pores… When the air is able to seep in through her pores, her sickness worsens. While it's busy eating away at her system, it's doing all it can to collect all other damaging sources to use to its advantage."

"Has she been sleeping this entire time?" Toph nodded.

"She knew what she had done, but she didn't go down right away when she'd been hit. She even cut down a few more warriors before— "

"— before she collapsed."

Toph frowned. "Yes… Sokka managed to get her to safety while we finished our ploy. Aang was enraged, but he managed to keep his head. I don't know how." Toph sighed, growing tired of reliving the events. "The poison is already making its way through her bloodstream. The doctors say that it must be very painful, and so her body knocks itself out so that she doesn't have to endure it consciously… Aang is in a very tough spot. He wants so badly for her to wake up, but knows that if she does before they find a solution, that she'll be in excruciating pain." Zuko considered what she told him.

"How long does she have?" Toph paused.

"The doctors say only a few days or so… If that."

_It will be over tomorrow_, the Avatar had said. Now Zuko understood why. The Avatar was going to make _sure _it did.

Zuko nodded, thinking of how Aang was most probably at Katara's side at that very moment. "Thank you, Toph." Zuko spoke softly. "I appreciate you telling me this."

"Don't worry, Sparky," Toph sighed, standing from his bed and moving to his door. "I'm going to go ahead with the others. I figure I don't have to tell you where to find Aang?"

"No," Zuko said. "Thank you, Toph." She nodded.

"He'll come with you to the meeting, but only because he knows he has to." Toph said. "I'm just as impatient to get rolling again as you are, but remember… he might need a little time." She raised the flap of the door and passed through.

Zuko stayed still for but a moment more, then rose to gather what he needed for the discussion. He should have known the reason for Katara's injury, he decided in retrospect. The Avatar had been in love with that girl ever since he first saw her— he supposed it only made sense that she would eventually love him back.

Something was bothering him, tugging at the back of his mind and at the pit of his stomach… But there was a war to be concerned about, after all. Why shouldn't his every step make him feel queasy? Every breath come out shaky?

He made his way out of his tent and to the infirmary ward across the field, hugging a few large maps to his side. When he entered, he immediately saw the Avatar by a bed, a bed whose resident Zuko didn't have to guess. The uneasiness returned to Zuko's stomach in full force, but he took a deep breath and ignored it. He was the general of the Avatar's army, for Agni's sake.

Zuko advanced toward his comrade, and with stronger determination than ever before, Zuko decided that the Avatar was right.

_One way or another, this ends tomorrow_.

* * *

><p>"Are we clear?"<p>

Nods and shouts of approval came from all corners of the tent.

"You know your orders," Zuko shouted across the crowd. "We leave at dawn!"

Cheering and applause surrounded him. Celebratory fists pumped themselves into the air. People patted him on the back as they left the tent, talking seriously of the day to come, and most came to shake his hand.

"Lay off your drinks tonight," Sokka shouted out into the field as the last person exited the tent. "Save them for tomorrow!" The only ones left were he and Zuko; Zuko did not miss that Aang had taken off back to the infirmary ward as soon as he was no longer needed. He did not blame him. "That was a very inspiring talk you gave there," Sokka leaned against a post with his arms folded. "You were very convincing." Zuko didn't look up at Sokka as he collected his maps.

"As long as they have their blessed hope, none of them need to know about mine."

"Or lack there of," Sokka said sharply. He peeked outside the tent to make sure no one was around to hear them.

"What would you have had me done?" Zuko asked testily, straining to keep his movements controlled. Heat was already boiling inside him after an hour's worth of battle planning and lies. "Come in, sit down, and try to convince them the truth? That's it's futile?" Zuko lowered his voice. "That they're going to die trying?"

"I'm just as worried as you are," Sokka said seriously. "But I trust Aang. I know he can do this and I know things are going to turn out all right."

"_How_ do you know?"

"Because it has to," Sokka said. "I can feel it."

Zuko was getting irritated with all these people having these supposed premonitions because they _felt_ something. Zuko felt something, all right, but it was anything but a badly informed notion of optimism.

"I'll lead them as best I can," Zuko said, coming next to Sokka's side at the door. He paused, speaking below a whisper. "No one else will ever have to know that I think it's a lost cause. Don't you worry about your troops' morale."

"It's not just the troops I'm concerned about, Zuko," Sokka said. "Look, I'm not going to pry or ask you what you intend to do after all this is done and over with— "

"— If we're still alive."

"— But I just want you to know, that, well…" Sokka rubbed his neck absentmindedly. "We've had trouble getting along, I know. But… I just don't want you to think that we don't like having you around." Sokka looked at Zuko. "Whatever you want to do after all this is obviously your decision. I know this is weird timing, but I just want you to know that you have the option of sticking with us." More absentminded rubbing of the neck. "You know. If you want to."

Zuko, surprised by this sudden and unexpected act of friendly peace, nodded reluctantly in thanks. "I appreciate that, Sokka." And he meant it, too, albeit he suddenly felt strangely uncomfortable having this new pressure placed on his shoulders. "But I'm just trying to focus on making it through tomorrow right now."

"Fair enough," Sokka nodded. The two hesitated, then Zuko turned.

"Tomorrow," was all Zuko said in parting.

"Bright and early," Zuko heard as he slipped out of the tent. Luckily, most everyone was already in their tents, preparing for the night.

He was frustrated by this new development. Grateful, but frustrated, nonetheless. As if it wasn't enough to have the world's unrealistic expectations already on his shoulders, but now there was a potential invitation from Sokka that would require a carefully articulated denial. All Zuko wanted to do was to go back to his room and lose himself in meditation. Inhale, exhale, the monotonous, mindless pattern of mental safety. How he wished that some things could be so much easier to forget.

Again, that hollow feeling of sickness swept through him. He paused, bringing his hand to his hair, and grimaced slightly as a wave of lightheadedness rushed through.

_There is no way my injury could have this much of an effect_, Zuko argued with himself. _All I need is meditation and sleep_. But after a few steps, that same feeling of dizziness consumed him once again, and he had to stop walking to keep from falling over.

"What is going on?" He ground out through his teeth, rubbing his temple. His stubbornness stayed strong, and he continued on. After it happened again not more than three steps later, however, he envisioned himself giving the incendiary battle cry at the onset of battle the next morning and failing to finish it because he had fainted from a dizziness spell.

_Maybe a quick word with a doctor wouldn't hurt…_

He stopped in the infirmary, carrying his maps loosely at his side and walking as slowly as he possibly could to maintain balance and still manage to not look conspicuous. The panic inside the infirmary that he had hazily witnessed earlier was completely gone. Most of the beds were full, but all were asleep, or at least appeared to be. Only a few doctors were scurrying about the room, checking on patients and the Avatar was easy to spot amongst them.

Sitting in a chair to Katara's right, Aang had nestled his head in his arms on the mattress near her head. As Zuko came closer, he saw that Aang was wide awake, though staring intently at the wall behind the bed. Zuko passed his old bed, finding that the young man who now occupied had obviously been in more need of it than Zuko had been.

_What am I doing here?_ Zuko thought. _I'm not nearly as bad as the poor people in here. Meditation and sleep, Zuko, you idiot._

"Zuko?"

Just as soon as Zuko had turned on his heel to go back out the door, Aang called out his name. Zuko sighed and slowly turned back around, completely ignoring the ache that was screaming in his head from the action.

"Sorry," Zuko apologized. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

"Is everything all right?"

"Don't worry, I just came in to see if I could talk to a doctor about my head before I went to sleep," Zuko surveyed the room. "Then I realized how ridiculous that is, especially with so many far worse off than I." Zuko looked at Katara lying still on the bed, her face turned away from him, toward Aang and realized too late that the Avatar most likely did not need to be reminded of that. He was about to apologize when the Avatar asked him, worriedly, "are you sure you're okay?"

"Really, Avatar, I'm fine," Zuko said reassuringly. "I'm just going to head back to my tent and try to get some rest before tomorrow." _You should, too, _Zuko wanted to say, but knew that it was unlikely that the Avatar could, even if he wanted to. Before Zuko had finished turning around, he was met with two of the advisors rushing toward him.

"Master Aang," they said as they bowed politely, simultaneously blocking Zuko from the way to the exit. The higher rank announced, "we're horribly sorry to call upon you at this late hour, but we require your assistance in securing the safety barrier."

"What's wrong?" Zuko asked, his aching mind already running through the possibilities of a leak in their only shield against Ozai's searching eyes. With the bending-controlled storm clouds in place, Ozai was unable to send his sky fleets to search for their whereabouts, making their location very well-hidden. Even if Ozai were somehow able to know of their whereabouts, the battalions would still be prepared for an attack, but this night of anxious rest would be a much-needed luxury before battle the following day.

"The winds are stronger than we anticipated," he continued. "The storm is moving east, and quickly."

Aang looked to Katara's sleeping form. "How bad is it?"

"We're sorry, sir, but we wouldn't call upon you unless it were absolutely necessary."

Aang nodded, staring at Katara's limp, bandaged body, but after a moment or two, he rose and followed the messengers as they scurried out. Aang nodded to Zuko as he passed by, but the messengers were too preoccupied with their worries to acknowledge the royal general.

Zuko watched them leave, and sighed. The doctors all seemed to have vanished for the moment, going off to wherever doctors go when they are not looking after patients, and now it was eerily quiet in the sullen infirmary. Zuko took a few steps toward the door, peered around the room once more, and stopped when he looked back behind him, where Katara's fingers were twitching.

He immediately found himself at her side, in Aang's place, so quickly that he didn't remember moving there. He lowered himself into the seat, checking frantically for any other sign of movement, but Katara was just as deathly still as she was before.

"Great," Zuko scoffed in a whisper. "I'm hallucinating." Releasing an exasperated sigh, he set his maps along the side the bed, and leaned back in the chair. _I'll just wait until the Avatar comes back. _Crossing his arms comfortably, he examined the unconscious girl in front of him once more.

She was sickly pale; her normally dark lips had faded into a pallid color of ash. One arm was tucked against her side under her mound of blankets while the other was curled next to her cheek, bandaged, still, and lifeless. Zuko could barely see the rise and fall of her breath, though he hoped that it was the mass of blankets that made it difficult to notice. Her hair was a tangled mess around the pillow, and some had fallen into her face. Zuko slowly reached out, afraid that if he moved too quickly, he might break her, and gingerly brushed the strands away from her cheek. He sat back in his chair, unsure of why he had done something so intimate for someone who surely hated him and for someone he saw as ignorant and foolish, but was interrupted by a particularly sharp sting of pain in his temple, and that thought was lost. When it receded, Zuko looked back at the girl on the bed and concluded that, unconscious or not, she looked entirely too peaceful for someone who knew that they were probably going to die. Even though life held so little for him now and he felt no fear of death, he longed for her serenity.

Zuko had never had any real problem with her, at least not after he gave up on hunting the Avatar. He had merely found her annoying at times, and naively idealistic at others— he was both irritated by and jealous of her having lived so little. But he knew that what he thought of her didn't matter, because he knew that she would never forgive him for what he'd done in the past.

Zuko leaned toward the bed, resting his elbows on his knees. _I guess I don't blame her_.

"So," Zuko said quietly, feeling a tad ridiculous for only just deciding to have a meaningful conversation with her now that she was unconscious and incapable of articulating a coherent— and probably cutting— response. "That must have taken some guts to throw yourself in front of those arrows." Zuko interlaced his fingers and glanced up at her sleeping face through his bangs. Even in sleep, the soft pout of her lips wore a frown when he was near. Zuko shook his head, fighting his annoyance; she was irksome even in her comatose state. "Right," Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to return to his previous train of thought. "Arrows." His hand fell limp. "I'd like to think that I'd have the guts to do the same for someone I cared about," Zuko said. He frowned at her frown. "But to be honest, I really don't know if I even _have_ anyone like that.

"You had probably been planning what you would do if you were ever in that situation all along though, hadn't you? You knew that you might eventually have the opportunity to sacrifice yourself for him, to save him, and the world and all that goodness, so you didn't hesitate when it came. Which is why it's funny to me that the Avatar is so… in shock, about all of this." Zuko chuckled without mirth. "You'd think he would have already realized that nothing could have stopped you, and that he'd stop blaming himself for what happened." Zuko shook his head. "But I guess that wouldn't really be him, would it? Nor would _not _jumping in front of oncoming death for the ones you love be _you,_ either.

"I guess what I'm really trying to say, waterbender," Zuko paused, considering. "What I'm trying to say, ah, _Katara_," Zuko corrected. "Is that even though I think you're, well, a fool, and that you could use a serious lesson or two in what the world is really like outside your precious shield of naïveté… I think the Avatar must be pretty lucky to have someone as naively full of hope as he is… and who is willing to die for what you both believe in." Zuko opened and closed his fingers. "And to die for him."

Zuko stared at her frown, that sickly sheen across her forehead, and the glitter of sweat at the tip of her nose for a long moment, then shook his head, remembering that stinging pain behind his eyes. "But what do I know?" Zuko stood, deciding that no company was probably better for the girl than any company from him. "I don't know you. I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow." Zuko picked up his maps and took one last parting glance at Katara. "I don't think I really know anything, anymore."

With a sigh, Zuko made his way out of the ward, feeling heavy. He didn't run into the Avatar on his way back to his tent, or see anyone outside their own, but he did get sidetracked by one detour. Outside the entrance of his tent, off to the right, was a large puddle from the previous day's rainfall. Without thinking, Zuko crouched to the ground and plucked a blade of dry grass. Without knowing the reason, he dropped it into the water.

The water shuddered with a few slight ripples and the blade, a tiny boat enjoying its pond, gently floated away. Zuko looked confused. Was it supposed to do that? Strange, but he couldn't remember. Zuko decided he was tired. He was tired of this war, tired of desperately trying to figure out what to do next but always choosing the wrong option, tired of everyone going on about their relentless hope.

_And tired of my head trying to implode._

Zuko stood, staring at the mysterious blade of grass with indifference, then simply turned and opened the flap of his tent, and slipped inside for the night.

And still, the blade of grass floated contentedly in its puddle.


	2. ascend

**Title: **Existence | The Beyond Lost Conclusion  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG-13  
><strong>Summary:<strong> IN PROGRESS. Continuation of Beyond Lost. "It's as real as we make it to be."  
><strong>Author's Notes: <strong>_5/4/2011._

Thank you all, again, for all of the support! I leave for Peru on May 16th, so I'm not entirely sure that another chapter will be out before I return to the States (late June), but I'm glad that I at least got this one out in time. :) I would love to hear your thoughts, so please review!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

_Zuko could _see _himself sitting on the grass by the small pond. Or, at least, he could see a version of himself—something of an entirely different existence—a version who seemed _totally unaware_ of this current, alarming identity-sharing situation, because the first—the _real_?—Zuko, lo and behold, was still standing in the middle of the clearing that felt so uniquely familiar and was observing his doppelganger in silence. This Zuko considered, without satisfaction, that he was either having an out-of-body experience that was _way _too realistic, or he was truly going insane. _

_He _knew _this place, he could feel that. Yet this Zuko remained on the defensive, his eyes darting around frantically, but unable to focus on any one point for very long without being distracted by the next sensation. Zuko, the Zuko sitting by the pond—"_I_ know_ that pond_," the Zuko in the clearing muttered to himself—seemed to be completely lost in thought. _

_Suddenly, there was a noise. A slight rustling of the bushes, but it overpowered the peaceful trickling of the waterfall so unexpectedly that the doppelganger was on his feet and prepared to fight in an instant. And all of a sudden, this Zuko _was _his doppelganger, or at least, felt his movements, knew his thoughts, and saw through his doppelganger's eyes._

_Zuko could feel the tumult of his mind racing through the limited ways of defending himself, now that he was without his fire bending abilities. Zuko could feel the tiny droplets of sweat gathering on his brow, feel his heel sinking itself into the yielding patch of grass, and feel himself drawing strength from his steady breath, preparing for what was to come._

_Zuko felt, all at once, the flurry of the confusion, the skepticism, the disappointment and the sinking sense of relief, when the Avatar's waterbender calmly walked out through the cherry trees, looking around and taking in her surroundings. Zuko held his position for only a moment more, before lowering his arms, but keeping his guard high._

_The waterbender took one look at Zuko and said, "I must be in some sort of hell."_

And in the distant part of the doppelganger's mind, the supposedly real Zuko remembered everything. He couldn't understand how he could have ever forgotten the sharp intensity of the revolted scowl on her face.

Well, it's not like you're first person I wanted to see either_, Zuko heard his doppelganger mind spit ferociously. But both Zuko and his other self knew better—it had been the most terrifying thing_ _to be alone in that place for so long, without any bending powers_. _He didn't want to admit it—_and I never did, to Katara, when this was really happening, when she was mine, Katara, where _are _you?—_but he had been so grateful for her presence_… _until he realized how direly he repulsed her_. _Zuko was not unused to feeling alone, but this Utopian prison was torture. And after seeing her reaction to his presence, and the pure hatred that emanated from her entire being, he couldn't help but sneer and return the favor._

The images blurred, and the scene changed, over and over, teasing Zuko with pieces and snippets and mere tastes of the world he couldn't believe he had let go of. It was replaying before his mind as if to remind him, but it was completely unnecessary—Zuko found that he now remembered everything.

Everything.

And as the pictures swirled around him, the constant shift of memories, Zuko saw only the infirmary ward of their far away make-shift hospital, back in _the place where they were supposed to be_, and saw Katara's calm, pallid face.

An abrupt cessation in the whirlpool of recollections, and the current changed direction. As the ultimate finale to his almost forgotten world now played in front of him, he could see Katara's peaceful, glowing face once more. Her voice reverberated through his being, "You won't be able to find me."

"But I _have_," Zuko whispered, his voice raspy and urgent. "I already have—I saw you—I know where you are, and I know that Aang is right, that when we finish the war tomorrow, we will find a way to save you, and you'll remember—you'll remember everything and—"

But too soon came the swirling, silent fog of ubiquitous white. Zuko watched himself begin to fade once more, a familiar feeling he believed to have only experienced just moments ago, and it only took one split second of confusion before Zuko realized what this meant for when he inevitably awoke. His eyes widened in a desperate plea to Katara, who looked back at him, calm and unaffected, with those piercing, garish eyes.

"No!" He called, though the heavy stillness had already quieted his ability to speak. "Katara! Not again! This is our chance—don't you see?" He ran toward her, swinging his arms and thrashing at the air as if to pull him closer, but he floundered. "Katara! Don't let them do this!"

And even after he finally disappeared in a cloud of white, her gaze never faltered.

* * *

><p>There are dreams that feel so realistic, so tangible, and so palpable that it is difficult for the dreamer to discern which world is authentic and which world is a product of their mind, of their spirit. Many cultures choose to approach both worlds with equal respect and appreciation, for the one world is just as <em>real<em> as the next.

And then there are dreams that one simply can't remember. As if such a world never existed, or such a story never happened, but one can't tell, because one has no basis for comparison. The only thing left is a quiet, enduring emptiness, and an involuntary acceptance to and subsequent disregard for this loss, always unbeknownst to the dreamer.

Zuko was feeling this a lot, lately.

With a muffled groan, Zuko reached for his head and slowly began the trying process of sitting up on his futon. Apparently, his head had decided over the course of the night that eliciting pain in _one _sector of his brain wasn't nearly enough. He pressed the heels of his hands to both temples with a hiss and wondered how the hell he had managed to sleep through such a throbbing ache taking root in his skull.

"So much for getting as much rest as possible," Zuko grumbled as he noted the darkness outside his tent with distaste. With one breath the candles in his tent burst forth with flames. There was not much in his tent to lay his eyes on; after all, what items could an exiled Prince possibly want to keep? Upon seeing the bundle of maps and the pile of armor, scattered unceremoniously in a heap on the floor, Zuko remembered what day it was.

And that was the moment it hit him.

He was numb.

No fear, no hope, nothing. He pondered this feeling, this stark emptiness for but a moment longer, staring into the flickering candlelight until his mind burned with the image. With a breath, he lifted himself off the bed, and prepared for the day.

"Just do the job," he whispered calmly. "Just get it done."

_And then it will all be over._

* * *

><p>The sun had barely risen after Zuko finished dressing in his casual Earth Kingdom garb, and he decided on a whim to visit the Avatar in the infirmary before donning his armor. This was probably going to be his last morning, after all.<p>

Reliable as always, Aang was hunched over her bed, head in his arms, looking awful. It was safe to assume that he didn't get much sleep that night either.

"Aang," Zuko said softly, gently pressing a hand onto the small shoulder. It was too small, he noted absently, and for the hundredth time, Zuko remembered that although years had gone by, this boy was a mere child. _The children left among us will not be children any longer_, he contemplated coolly, watching the Avatar resist looking away from the girl with detached interest. He vaguely wondered if that's what he had looked like as his own childhood had been stripped away from him years before, along with his seared flesh. "Aang, it's time." There was speech, but it was muffled by a mattress and a pair of arms. Zuko leaned in closer to hear, ignoring the ache in his head. "I can't understand you."

"Aang," the Avatar offered a small, sleepy smile as he turned to face Zuko. "You used my real name. That's the first time I haven't had to correct you." He was looking at the older boy in earnest.

Zuko gently raised a brow. This seemed like a rather trivial matter for celebration considering the circumstances, but who was he to deny the Avatar his last joys? "It's your name, after all," Zuko said simply with a shrug. "Why not use it?" The Avatar replied with a weak, yet bright, smile and stood.

"Yes," Aang said, rising with a sudden determination and a luster in his eyes that caught Zuko off-guard. "It's time. It looks as if the sun will be rising within the hour, and we have a long day ahead of us. I will make the necessary preparations as you confirm the final touches for our arrangements. When the sun begins its ascent, we will rally the troops, and move forward." There was strength in the boy's voice, but Zuko could not appreciate it. With a grave nod, Zuko demonstrated his acceptance.

"And have all of the plans remained the same?" Zuko desperately tried not to let his gaze wander to the girl's sleeping form; his will had been strong throughout his entire conversation up until this point, now when he wished to know if Aang had... _other _priorities. Aang tensed momentarily, but with a deep breath, he was collected once more.

"I never thought it would come to this," Aang whispered, the storm of pain surging in his eyes.

"Come to what?"

"To the point where I would have to listen to my guru's words—that the world's needs must take priority over mine," Aang's gazed slowly returned to the woman beside him. "And over hers."

Zuko waited patiently, fighting to remain strong and to maintain his gaze on Aang's features. The Avatar was already faring through enough this morning; why exacerbate his pain with just another useless look of pity that no one needed? "So no," the Avatar broke through his thoughts. "Our plans have not changed. We will proceed with the original strategy. Only when the Fire Lord is gone will we begin the search for the cure." Zuko paused, allowing Aang to soak in the moment and gather his strength again.

"Very well," Zuko said, turning away. "I will leave you to..." _To what? To say goodbye to the girl you love in peace?_

"Thank you, Zuko," Aang said finally, in understanding, as a sad smile pulled at his lips. "Would you like to say any words to Katara before you leave?" His eyes had clouded over. "I'm positive that she will be watching over us on the battlefield today." Aang touched her limp hand, carefully ghosting the bandages with his fingertips. "But maybe some reassurance would help?"

Zuko paused, feeling his throat suddenly constrict. What was he supposed to say? The Avatar was well aware that he and the waterbender had never gotten along, and he had said pretty much everything there _was _to say the previous night when he was talking to her unconscious form like a lunatic. He looked into Aang's hopeful expression, wondering idly what the Avatar would do if he could hear the words he'd uttered to the girl the night before, and then decided that he was being ridiculous.

"Well," Zuko said, licking his suddenly dry lips. "I suppose I would just like to thank her... For the chance to fight." Aang looked down at the girl on the bed, his eyes flashing with soft pride. "It's her sacrifice that allowed us to have a second chance, and it's what will allow you to defeat my father once and for all."

Aang, smiled sadly, but released a soft laugh. "Don't tell _me_ all that, Zuko. Tell Katara."

Zuko prepared himself to turn his gaze, suddenly feeling anxious for a reason he couldn't understand. He didn't _want _to see her again, he realized. Not when she was alone and dying and so unlike the fiery waterbending master that he was so used to seeing. Why should he get to partake in this shared moment between the Avatar and his loved one? He had no right to be there, not when he had only seen such a small fragment of who she really was. With a deep exhale, Zuko turned around to face the girl on the bed.

"She's getting worse," Aang said suddenly, as Zuko took in the figure on the bed in silence. "You understand what I mean when I tell you that this ends today?"

"I understand," Zuko whispered, considering the line between her brows. She no longer looked calm.

And for some reason, this upset Zuko more than it should have.

"Master Aang!" The two benders looked up to see one of the doctors approaching. He was severely out of breath and his voice was laced with fear.

"What's wrong?" Aang immediately demanded. His hold on the girl tightened imperceptibly, but Zuko could sense it.

"I beg you, Avatar, come this way! It appears the barrier is already drifting away!"

With a defeated sigh, Aang set his jaw and released Katara's hand. Zuko watched warily as it dropped back to the mattress, each second in time elongated by the focus of his gaze. "Zuko," Aang said, bringing his attention back to the Avatar. "I will be right back. Please tell Katara your kind words, and then prepare for battle." In a flash, Aang had brushed Katara's hand once more, and then was already making his way through the infirmary. "I won't be long."

Zuko stared at Aang's back, watching as the doctor hurriedly lead the Avatar through the tent and out into the morning's darkness. He breathed deeply, realizing that he was once again alone in the ward with the girl before him, and that the summer's heat was already creeping into his skin. His mind throbbed as he began to sweat, and he cleared his throat with difficulty. He knew that he should probably just go now—there wasn't much time to prepare, and he really had no desire to share any more nonsensical words with the waterbender before he died, but his honor held him firmly to where he stood. Aang had asked him to say his parting words to the dying girl in front of him, and he was bound to that request.

With a sudden tightness in his chest, Zuko looked back to the sleeping girl's face and immediately to the crease between her brows. He noticed with distaste that some of her relentless hair had gotten into her eyes yet again and with a roll of his eyes and a deep sigh, he threw caution to the wind and extended his hand to brush it away.

But the next thing he knew, his mind had exploded with pain and he was suddenly curled in on himself, gasping for air. Through the burning gulps he wondered—what was that he had _seen_? There had been something, a vision of _someone_, an image of someone beneath him that surfaced as soon as he reached out, and then he was suddenly blinded by the excruciating surge in the ache throbbing throughout his head. He tried to look again, to remember what he had seen, but the sensation clouded over once more. He needed to get outside, away from the infirmary. He realized this with such a primitive urge of animalistic survival that he nearly toppled through the tarp as he threw himself out the back entrance and made for the cover of the forest. _What is that _noise_?_

Something was humming and ringing in his ears, a vicious, almost angry sound pounding on his eardrums, into his skull. The pressure against his temples was rising, yet he kept pushing through the forest. Through the haze, Zuko tried again to see the image that had flashed before his eyes—for reasons he couldn't explain, he felt like he _had_ to remember it, it was so curious, but there was more, there was something inside him telling him that it was impossible, that it was important, that it was _imperative. _

What was it? Was it a dream? _It feels like one_. It must have been part of his dream from last night, the one he couldn't remember—but what was with his _head_?

And there it was—another flash of the image. It was a girl, Zuko realized. It was _Katara_. He collapsed to the ground, pushing through the burning sensations over and over as the image flashed in and out of sight. The more he fought, the louder the ringing grew, shrieking louder and louder as he was able to keep the vision in sight for just a moment longer during each flash. He can see that Katara—he knew for certain now that it could be no one other than Katara—was lying before him in his mind, and with each pulse of the image before his closed eyes, he could see the picture more clearly.

He was positive that he was going to go deaf from the hum, but the more he concentrated on the image, the easier the painful drone was to ignore. Aware of the vicious shrieking in the distance, Zuko held both of his hands over his ears, pushing out the pain as he looked on and saw that the woman beneath him looked troubled, but she was preoccupied with something on his chest, where she had placed her hand. One hand flew to his chest immediately, as if to capture the phantom hand over his heart, and he swore he could almost _feel _the patterns she was drawing on his chest, as if he had felt it before. The humming screamed against it, and Zuko doubled over in pain, the image momentarily lost, as a blinding white light overpowered his sight. He fought it, releasing a cacophony of sounds as he dragged up the image again, clutched both hands at his chest, found that feeling, and desperately tried to understand what Katara had been doing, why he was seeing this, what had _happened_, when it hit him.

She was spelling out his name.

And a cascade of images flew before his eyes; they fell down upon him like a monstrous dam collapsing, and the hum gave one final lurch of inescapable sound in furious defeat. But Zuko didn't care. He was seeing everything.

He never wanted it to stop, even with that forceful howl echoing somewhere in his mind, he never wanted the pictures to end, because he was sure that if it did, he would forget it all—forget it again—and he would lose her, just like he did before, just like he promised her not to. But eventually did stop. All of it, the pictures, the noise. After an eternity, it was gone.

And he still remembered.

Zuko lay sprawled on the grass, his weight just marginally supported by the tree behind him, stunned for one silent moment, looking at the trees around him without really seeing them, and he realized—he _remembered_.

And the howling screamed, so much more violently than before that Zuko's face contorted into a grimace, and his entire body seized up from the sheer pressure exerted over his head. He felt like his skull was being crushed, his body twisted and mangled, as the howling gave a daunting crescendo. At the shrill, screeching finale, Zuko felt something start to crack, start to break inside him, and then suddenly, it stopped.

Zuko lay paralyzed on the ground, unable to feel anything but the ringing echo of the dissipating sound, when his body lurched forward as his stomach gave, and he vomited into the grass. The pain was still stinging at his brows as he panted for breath. Amidst the ragged coughing, Zuko heard a voice. Or rather, a chorus.

And Zuko _knew_.

"Hello, Zuko," it resonated.

The voices of _them_: a harmony of male and female. He could never tell how many... They were indistinguishable from one another, mere whispers in the wind, like a song whose origin you could never be sure of. And the sounds might as well have been from the wind—he remembered vaguely that hadn't known that the voices were in his "mind," back in_ the place he remembered_, until Katara had shown up and he realized the things he heard were not always told to Katara. _Katara_. He remembered thinking that it was probably because she wouldn't understand the messages, he thought with a bitter laugh, coughing out more of the spew in his mouth. How naive _he _had been... _Katara_. What was the difference between the voices coming from the wind and coming from his mind, anyway? Did he even have a mind _here_? His tired mind wandered.

"Still so cynical, Zuko," they cooed, amused.

Oh, how he did not miss _them_, Zuko coughed again. He must have screwed up big time if they were gaining this much enjoyment from seeing him suffer.

"It's all a matter of conditions," they said, condescendingly.

"Why am I unsurprised," Zuko rasped out of his burnt throat. As he coughed haggardly, he remembered that speech wasn't necessary for them to communicate. They communicated only when they wanted to, and always had their means.

"Indeed, Zuko," their hushed tones rang. "Yet we are surprised to be speaking with you again… so soon."

As the pain slowly ebbed away from his temples, and the haze in his mind cleared away, the memories of his final moments before the white fog first took him away flooded back to him in a violent flood.

_Where is she?_

"You know where she is, Zuko," they sang. "You saw her lying in her hospital bed just this morning."

_I'm not playing games!_

"But Fate is a game, Zuko," they whispered hideously. "And unfortunately, the choice to play is not yours to make."

_Why isn't she here? Why did you bring me back? _

"Because she cared."

Zuko pulled himself up, to lean against the tree. He stared blankly into the grass. _What_?

"In order to earn the right to live after reaching the Paradise, one must demonstrate the ability to release life, to let go. That is true freedom," they said enigmatically. "Only then will you be in the right position to fulfill your true destiny."

"How does that even make sense?" Zuko spit the awful taste into the grass, and tried to sit up, but moved too quickly. He held his fingers up to his temple. "_I_ care about living—what does that have to do with anything?"

"But you do not," they countered. "You only truly care for _Katara_. You do not care for where you reside, so long as you have her. You could have remained in the Paradise for all time. It was Katara that dwelled on how the world was faring outside your haven."

"That doesn't make any more sense than the last piece of nonsense you threw at me!"

"You know well enough that we only tell what we are meant to tell."

"So," Zuko gripped a root of the tree by his right hand and squeezed until his knuckles turned white. "What if part of Fate is to fulfill one's destiny _with_ fear? To overcome it?" Zuko demanded. "You can't tell me that the reason Katara didn't come back to save the godforsaken world was because she _wanted_ to so badly!" He shut his eyes tightly against the surrounding trees. He wished they were cherry blossoms.

"No… The reason you were sent back to help Aang complete his destiny was because we knew that you would do it if it meant bringing her back." Zuko's eyes snapped open.

"The reason... she's still dying," Zuko whispered slowly. "You chose for her to stay because of _me_? Because you needed her to be an unconscious motivational tool… for me?"

"Correct."

"That is sickening," Zuko spat ferociously, his lip curling. "Then why take away my memories of her? Why wouldn't it make more sense to for me to remember exactly what I am fighting for?" He placed a hand on the tree, and catapulted himself into a standing position.

"It is not the way."

"I'm tired of the way," Zuko ground out through his teeth. "Explain."

"Testiness is frowned upon, Zuko." They scolded, but with indifference. Their personal enjoyment at having been loop holed was abating, and now they were taking their rightful attitude as an objective party. "You only needed that drive. You didn't need the reason why."

Zuko sneered. "And now? Now that I remember?"

"You could have done your duty and let the Avatar win, and Fate would have taken its course."

"But now?" Zuko persisted. "What _now_?"

"But now, for having disrupted the threads of Fate, it your responsibility to defeat the Fire Lord yourself... or she will stay with us."

Zuko paused. "_Where_? Where is she?"

"With us, Zuko."

"And what will happen to her, if you decide that she can't come back?" Zuko's voice was acid.

"Her soul will follow the way. He her soul will be cycled into its next life, when the time comes."

Zuko asked again. "Where is she?"

"That is not important anymore, Zuko," they said. "What's important now is the new path."

"And what about after this path—after the war? Will she come back?" Zuko felt the heat swell within him, and he slammed his fist into the tree. "Were you ever even planning on giving her back to us—to _me_?"

"Remember, Zuko," the voices started to fade. They had conveyed their message, and were leaving him now. "If you wish to have your Katara return to you, you must obey the new path."

"No," Zuko said. "I'm done with this—where is she?"

Silence.

"Tell me where she is!" Zuko bellowed, a flame bursting from each fist.

Nothing.

"_Tell me!_"

Zuko looked around frantically, but found only silent, empty trees. The flames remained burning for a moment longer before Zuko killed them, and let his hands fall to his sides. He dropped to the ground.

Katara.

Was this his destiny? The never-ending failure? The never-ending loss?

_Katara_.

It was all he had ever known.


	3. aware

**Author's Notes: **_3/24/14. _Uh. Wow. So. Yeah. First update in almost three years? Not... terrible.

**_couple of things:_**  
>- I'm alive! (My trip to Peru was hella awesome, by the way. I can remember most of it. Since my last update I've also, <em>ohlet'ssee—<em>climbed Machu Picchu, gone to Spain [the following summer], graduated from college, got a job, started a career, started grad school, etc. Just a frame of reference, I guess.) Yep. Alive. Whoops.  
>- Not a whole lot actually happens in this chapter, believe it or not. Consider this update a reminder to myself that this fic is in existence, and that I need to finish it.<br>- I've learned that I write best when I write in small spurts and post often. After managing to complete two _other_ multi-chapter pieces, I've learned that I _am _capable of finishing a story! I just need to do it. (Never mind the fact that I've also started more than twice as many fics as I finish, nope, don't mind that.) Nope.  
>- The biggest hang-ups I've faced with this story include the details and logistics of the battle, which, I realized<em>—<em>I don't actually really care about. So I'm going to skip over it. Mostly. I'm just going to push forward and move onto the parts that I've been _waiting _to write, or that I've started writing, the ones that are actually important to me. Strangely enough, this notion only occurred to me recently. (Who knew that authors had the authority to make those decisions? Bizarre.)  
>- Trying to read over the previous chapters is too painful. My writing has changed so drastically<em>—<em>so much, so gradually that I didn't even realize just how much until I cringed my way through **Chapter 1**. Thus, there might be some inconsistencies, both in plot and style, and I ask that you bear with me, yo, because I ain't even gonna care anymore, I just need to get this _done_, in whatever form that takes.  
>- This will not ever be considered amongst my best work, and I'm totally okay with that.<p>

This is really just about the conclusion a story that I feel deserves to be written.

With the ending I've always envisioned.

_—_ So. Thanks for sticking around. :)

* * *

><p>The voices were gone.<p>

But Zuko knew it was only the beginning.

* * *

><p><strong><em> 3.<em>**

_+ aware +_

* * *

><p>Funny, how one's entire existence could change in the breath of a single moment.<p>

Prone on the cold ground, with the echo of Fate lingering in his ears. This was They were still calling his name... over and over...

"_Zuko_!"

_Leave me, _Zuko's broken mind rasped. _Leave me here_, he demanded, old and cracked and empty, for he was never picking himself up off the ground.

"_Zuko!_"

Slowly, light began to filter behind the battered shield of his eyelids. The sound of his name was growing louder, as if stretching closer, and fire curled through his heart, spreading silver-hot tendrils through his chest. _Come back, then, _he challenged the darkness, then shuddered at the sounds of his own broken breaths. _Come back and finish what you started_.

He became aware of the hard ground beneath his cheek, as if it had risen up to meet him. He could suddenly feel the distinct press of earth on his skin, texture and sound and space. Everything about him seem labored—_his breathing, his thoughts, each beat of his thick, heavy heart_—and it was then, Zuko realized that it was not_ them _he heard at all.

"_Zuko! Get up!"_

The distant noise of the world crowded together in his mind, and the pieces of a puzzle from a long-forgotten past shifted into place, one-by-one, by one...

_Get up._

Zuko stumbled to his feet, but not before crashing back onto the soil twice, unable to keep from falling forward with the weight his heavy, heavy head. The pain was a dull ache, warm and aching, but it was becoming easier to ignore with every passing minute. When something gently dusted along his brow, his twitched uncomfortably, and it was a moment before he realized that it was his own hand slipping away from the sweat that had gathered there; for a moment he stared at it gazing at the fingertips as if they were not his own.

He reminded himself that this was real.

"_Zuko_!" someone cried from across the clearing. It was Toph.

He could see that now.

"Zuko!" she called again, closer, running. "What the _hell—?_ Are you all right?"

A breath filled him, sharp and jagged, and with it came all of the realizations of just how right he wasn't. Ignoring the pain that shot down his side, Zuko took a step certain, stumbling step forward. He did his best to jog back towards the direction of camp, swaying with dizziness, but Toph met him halfway. She was shouting breathless explanations before he even had a chance to ask.

"Zuko, what the hell _happened_? When the rest of us came to and we realized that you were gone, we feared the worst. I couldn't even find you at first!"

He blinked, trying to remain stable and upright, but nothing_—nothing, and yet everything—_was making sense.

"Came to?" he rasped, as he came to a halt before her. The change in momentum made his stomach churn, and he pitched forward, his hands on his knees. He swallowed bile, but all he tasted was blood.

"We passed out from the pain," Toph said slowly, and he watched the crease between her brow deepen with growing unease. "_All_ of us. We can't figure out what it was—some sort of mass chakra attack, perhaps? I felt like my head was literally going to _explode_. Aang has already consulted Avatar Roku, but none of the other Avatars have ever experienced something quite like this before—it's not looking good. Didn't you feel it?"

"Of course," Zuko muttered, his eyes not quite able to stop blinking against the sudden harshness of the grayish morning light. "Of course."

"So are you all right?" she asked. "Your heartbeat is out of control."

"No," he answered flatly, if only because he'd given up on lying to Toph long ago. His deep, shuddering breaths were anything but calming, but he knew that he needed to get his head straight and he needed to do it _now_. "What about the others? The doctors? The patients?"

_Katara._

_Katara._

_Katara, Katara, KataraKataraKatara—_

"It hit_ everyone, _Zuko," she whispered, and for a heartbreaking moment, he saw Toph for the strong but scared child she really was.

"And _she_—?" Zuko croaked. "Is she—?"

"Aang is with her now," Toph explained in a steady, hollow voice. "C'mon—it's more important than ever that we find this damn cure, and _pronto_. The doctors have no way of knowing the effect it may have had on her—whatever it was. You don't have any idea what it could have been, do you? Some sort of firebender attack your sister cooked up?"

Bile threatened to rise once more, but Zuko had nothing left to release, and his body was already spent with exhaustion. He jerked his head to side. "None," he rasped, trying to remember how to use his tongue. He cleared his throat with a vicious cough, wet and wrenching.

"Zuko?"

"Let's go," was all he said. He took another step forward—_smaller, but steadier_—and ignored Toph's tentative hand for support. "We should be moving."

Toph did not often respond well to commands, regardless of the commander.

But even she made no argument against him now.

The camp was completely out of sorts and the medical tent was at the heart of the chaos; a blur of sight and sound—_drab colors made bright by the swell of panic_—and the air of uncertainty thick like a cloud in the air, choking off cries of confusion and dismay. The dawn was gray with shapeless clouds, and the white of the infirmary tent was stark enough to burn the eye.

Toph was right on his heels as he tore through the eastern entrance, casting aside the stiff flap of tarp, and it was through the masses of blurred bodies and indistinct voices—_the rattling sounds of bed frames and healers' commands_—that Zuko pushed through, edging his way through the small crowds of bodies toward—

—toward the sight of a slight, sleeping, heavily bandaged girl, whose name he once only barely remembered.

Who meant everything to him.

He ran with all the strength his legs could afford him.

_Katara_, his chest constricted, through the swirls of images and thoughts and stories that had returned to him. (The lost moments, the memories. The arguing and the trust, sunshine and flower petals, stupid spirit ponds and kisses in the dark, and his name in the forgiveness of morning light. The way her body moved, and the noises she made, how her hair fell into her eyes, and the way she _looked_ at him, like—) _I don't know how and I don't when, but I promise you... I promise you—_

And there she was.

Zuko's feet had dragged to a stop before he'd even realized.

The terrible luster of sweat across her exposed skin reflected an eerie, unnatural glow. The hustling shadows of the rushing soldiers around her cast shadows upon her face. Three healers flanked her bedside, bathing her in bluish, loving light. She looked even more lifeless than the night before.

The healer must have noticed a worsening of the symptoms, Zuko concluded, staring blankly at the fresh sheet of bandages wrapped around her arms. A familiar voice caught his notice then, on the fringes of his awareness—_The healers are doing all they can, Aang—_but Zuko hadn't the mind to place the face, nor the will to look away... Zuko knew that the speaker meant well, and believed with his whole being that the Head Healer was doing all that he could... but Zuko also knew that nothing from the healers would help. This was no matter of sanitation, or antibiotics, or antidotes, or cures.

This was about Fate, and the cruel tricks it had played on them both.

_Katara_, Zuko's mind scolded through the screaming terrors of his mind. _How could you be such a fool? How could you __do__ something like this?_ He couldn't swallow, couldn't breathe.

"Bring a fresh set of bandages, please," the healer told one of the volunteers, who scurried away immediately. He sighed heavily, reaching for Katara's wrist to inspect her pulse.

"How is she?" Toph asked quietly, but the answer was obvious. Aang merely sat in his chair, with a gaze as dull as the clouds. Not one pair of eyes removed themselves from Katara, and Zuko found that he had to focus all of his energy on calming the trembling in his mind to hear the healer's speech. Had it really only been an hour before, when he had stood over her bedside, unprepared and uncertain as to how to bid her farewell?

And he hadn't, actually.

He hadn't said goodbye.

"I'm afraid the bandages can only do so much," the healer said, his voice low. "They are helping to contain the poison's ability to discover other toxins somewhat, but the method is limited." He continued about his business of checking her vitals and when he finished, he shook his head, at a loss. "We're going to need to find other means of stopping the spread. It will be very important now to avoid physical contact at all costs. The aids will wear protective gloves over their hands, to keep the natural oils and bacteria at bay." He turned to another of the volunteers, as the initial helper returned with more bandages. "Find the cleanest piece of cloth, disinfect it, and bring it back to me, so we may apply it as a mask. We'll need to try filtering the air she's breathing, as well."

Sokka covered his eyes with his hand, and Suki did all that she could to steady him.

Aang only stared.

* * *

><p>And <em>Zuko—<em>

Zuko remembered.


End file.
